Viva Las Crime Scene
by EmmWebb
Summary: She just decided to leave, transfer to Chicago. To just run away from it all. Can she finally make a few friends and find someone to love? What dark secrets is this girl hiding? Yet another CSI that I ruined. Hilarious, eh? I should be put in jail.
1. Freedom

Viva Las Crime Scene

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters, except for Alex and Samantha.

**A/N: Hi! . Hope you enjoy my story… It may be a little boring at first, but it'll get better next chapter. I just have to lead you up to it.. Anyways, thanks for considering to read it! If you have an account with please review! If you don't, get an account and review! Critical reviews welcome, although if you give me nice ones it makes me happy, and then if I'm happy I'll do good writing, and then you'll be entertained… Sorry for taking so long, and sorry if they get a little out of character.. Ok, I'll go ahead and start…**

**P.S. Be gentle, this is my first CSI fanfic…**

"You don't know what you're doing."

Samantha O'Brien turned to look at her coworker in mid-step. The other CSI looked desperate; but Samantha seemed calm. It had been a long time since she had felt the feeling of freedom- and she didn't plan to let this one slide away.

"Actually I do John." The blonde answered a heavy bag around her forearm and a variety of books in her hands. "Look, I never liked it here- and I never will. Las Vegas is the escape that I need, and I'm not going to give it up that easily." Samantha promptly finished with that word, facing in the direction that she had before and walking away; leaving the man dumbfounded and at a loss of words.

She was gone. Samantha had put in her two week notice fourteen days before- praying that she could get another interview in the Las Vegas CSI. She had thought that the first interview had gone well, and that gave her the hope of getting out of Chicago. Ever since her first day on the job, she hadn't liked it. It wasn't the profession, but rather the people that she worked with.

Samantha had spent a few years in Las Vegas after she got out of college- mostly working as a cop, patrolling the streets for about two years until her aunt moved into Chicago. That was when she decided to get a job in crime scene investigation. Now it was another three years later, and the level three CSI was finally leaving the Chicago crime lab.

It wasn't positive that Samantha was going to be given another interview, but she felt almost certain that she would have one. The way that the woman talked- Catherine something or another; it seemed as if she had a good chance. So she decided to give it a shot.

Catherine Willows walked briskly down the hall, making her way towards Grissom's office. In her hands were three files- of the three one to be chosen for the job opening. It turns out that their budget had just been raised- and Gil had taken advantage of the small window of opportunity, immediately adding a space to the team.

She walked through the open door, her hair slightly windblown from how fast she had been walking. She found her superior leaning over his desk, scribbling words onto a document. A short clearing of her throat caused him to look up at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yes?" He asked, clicking his pen so that the ink portion retracted. Catherine laid all three folders on his desk.

"I've looked the resumes over again- and I think these three would be the best way to go." She informed him, arranging the crème folders so that they fanned out before him.

Grissom pulled them closer to him, leaning over once more. He stared at them thoughtfully for a few minutes before responding as he pointed to one. "This one. She seems the furthest along, and quite interesting at that. She'd be a great addition." He left it at that, handing the file back to her and discarding the others. Catherine opened it, unsure of which he had chosen. 'Another level three,' She thought, glancing briefly at some of the new CSI's information.

"Alright," Catherine closed the file, nodding to Gil. "I'll call her."

Although it had only rang twice, to Samantha it seemed as if the buzzing noise from her phone wouldn't stop. Groggily she rolled over, flipping open her cell phone as she answered.

"Hello?"

Samantha glanced at the clock beside her. She wasn't exactly used to getting calls that early in the morning; especially after staying up and celebrating in the clubs almost all night.

"Samantha O'Brien? This is Catherine Willows, Las Vegas crime lab."

Almost all of the fatigue shot out of Samantha as the voice on the other line spoke. She recognized it almost instantly- she had never heard someone with a voice like the other woman's.

"Yes- Catherine Willows, I remember," Samantha answered, slowly sitting up on the side of her bed. "What can I do for you?"

There was a pause before she answered. "It seems that you have another interview." Catherine was careful not to break the news to her- it needed to be done in person, so that she could be sure that it really was Samantha O'Brien that she was talking to.

"Really? When?" Samantha asked in reply, accidentally forgetting to act formally.

"How about this coming up Monday at seven a.m.? I'll be here." Catherine answered, trying to pick a time that wouldn't force Samantha to change her sleeping habits and Catherine still be on her shift.

Samantha thought for a moment and then spoke. "That sounds great- I'll see you then." She was already excited about the follow-up interview, waiting to see if that was all that Catherine needed.

"Ok- I guess we have a meeting. Good-bye," Catherine said, bidding the other woman farewell. Samantha replied in much the same manner.

"Yes- see you." Samantha let out a deep breath; one that she had been holding ever since she had heard Catherine introduce herself. It diffidently would be a day of twists on Monday; even if she was only going for an interview.

"Excuse me- can I help you?" A young receptionist piped up, directing her voice to the only other person in her waiting room. It was a young woman with long blonde hair- maybe to her mid-back; she had just walked in and was rummaging through her small purse. The woman looked up at the receptionist, her deep chocolate eyes looking full of exhaustion.

"Oh hello." Samantha answered, smiling slightly. Her flight had come in late the night before, and she had been given quite a time trying to wake up and make it to the office on time. Yet she still seemed somewhat happy. "I'm here for a job interview with Catherine."

"Ah," The girl turned, pulling out a drawer from a filing cabinet. "One second…" She trailed off, holding up a note to read. "Samantha O'Brien?"

"Yeah, that's me." Samantha smiled slightly broader, finally giving up on the lipstick that she had been trying to find.

Catherine looked exactly the same to Samantha. Her hair, her eyes, and her nose- for some odd reason she just remembered her. Like the CSI's voice, Samantha had never met anyone who looked quite like Catherine. Samantha snapped her attention back to the interview as Catherine sat down, opened Samantha's file, and began to speak at the same time.

"Well Samantha," She started, looking over her resume once more. It was impressive- she hadn't exactly met a lot of level threes who transferred from their original posts. "I do have some bad news and some good news."

A sinking feeling started in Samantha. The only thing that kept her hopes up was the fact that she was still there- asked to another interview. "Oh, ok." She merely stated, waiting for Catherine to continue.

"Yes, well I'll have to give you the good news or else you won't understand the bad." Catherine smiled, closing the folder and looking directly at Samantha. "You've got the job."

"I got the job?" Samantha asked, giddily clapping her hands together. "I just- oh thank you." She exclaimed softly, forgetting that there was 'bad news' too; but as long as she had the job, she didn't really think that anything could bring her down.

"Yes, you did." Catherine smiled slightly from some of Samantha's joy radiating to her. "But you have to start on Wednesday- or at least come in and meet everyone. We'll probably have a case or two by then." She put the file to the side, sliding her chair closer to the desk. "And you have to be on the nightshift."

Samantha stopped for a moment. She had never been on the nightshift before, and didn't exactly know if it would be a dramatic difference or not. She stopped smiling and nodded. "Ok, nightshift on Wednesday… What time?" She asked, feeling as if she were a kid once more.

"Show up at eight." Catherine had no clue what time Grissom wanted her to show up- but Catherine was always early, and came in about eight. It would probably be good for the girl if she showed up early on her first day of work.

"Alright- I'll be here."

So it was over. Samantha's life in Chicago- and now she actually had another job. Finally, her life was turning around. Now all she needed was a place to live…

She would figure it out. Until then she just needed to focus on her new job, and making sure that she made the right first impressions. Like her aunt used to tell her- a first impression can save your life.

"Hello!" Oddly enough, Samantha had actually been able to change her sleeping habits in the matter of the two days that she was given. Although she had been a little sleep deprived, she couldn't help but be peppy on the day of her first job.

The receptionist raised her head, smiling warmly at Samantha. No doubt it was a requirement of her job. "Oh, hi Samantha." She greeted the other woman, looking back down at her paperwork.

"Actually, I don't really go by Samantha." Samantha corrected her. "That's more of a formal thing for me- I go by Sam." She corrected the receptionist, leaning against the counter.

"Sam, huh? Well, I go by Alex. And you know you could have used the staff entrance." Alex corrected in reply, a lock of her dark hair falling in front of her shoulder. Samantha shrugged.

"I'll find out where it is and not bother you anymore."

"Please do."

Samantha nodded, deciding not to reply to her last statement. She entered through the door that she had a few days before, heading in the direction of Catherine's office. She had no clue if she really _did_ know where it was, but she thought that she could at least give it a shot.

With another turn Samantha entered Catherine's open office, luckily finding the woman in beside her desk, speedily scribbling down words on the corner of an already printed out paper. Sheepishly Samantha entered, slowly making her way to the edge of her desk.

Catherine looked up as soon as the creeping feeling that someone was watching her set in. She smiled welcomingly to Samantha. "Samantha- Hi." She straightened the papers she had been writing on, and then picked them and a folder up.

"Oh, hi Catherine- and I hate to tell you, but I don't really enjoy being called that." Samantha confessed, not exactly wanting her to react the same way the Alex had. "I prefer to be called Sam; I don't find it as formal."

"Sam? Alright, understandable." Catherine nodded, walking towards the door. "Follow me- I'm going to Grissom's office, you probably need to meet him first." She called over her shoulder, and Samantha obeyed.

They were halfway to their destination when they met Grissom in the hall. For a brief moment he raised an eyebrow at Sam, but quickly turned his attention back to Catherine. "So, who do we have here?" He asked as he thumbed through the pages of a closing case.

"Sam O'Brien." Catherine answered, barely remembering to call the woman by her requested nickname. "She's the new level three."

"Sam? Short for Samantha?" Gil asked, looking up at her over the top of the folder in his hands.

Samantha nodded lightly. "Yes- it is, but I've always grown up by Sam. Like a kid in school named Floyd but he goes by Dean."

"Or a guy named Richard and goes by Dick."

The trio adverted their eyes to look at the source of the voice: a person behind Samantha. She turned her body so that she was facing the whole group, at once noticing his most wild feature- his hair. It reminded her vaguely of Ryan Cabrera, but she wasn't exactly a fan of the artist. Yet the style looked almost good on the newly arrived individual.

"Um; hi." Samantha said softly, waving to him.

"Hey- you must be the new dude." He grinned, extending his hand. "Greg Sanders."

Samantha took his hand, shaking it gently. "Sam O'Brien." She introduced herself, letting go of him and turning to glance at them all.

"Greg- I was looking for you." Grissom stated plainly, closing the folder and holding it at his side. He turned to look at Sam. "I've got just the case for you."

**A/N: So, what do you think? Will you read more? Hopefully… Anyways, like I said before, PLEASE review!  Thanks for reading, and I'm looking forward to posting the next chapter! (probably in a day or two)**


	2. The Scene

**A/N: For some great reason, you've decided to read the second chapter of this story.. Thankyou! Anyways, it's getting better this chapter- and if not, it will be next chapter. So I'll get started again… **

**Oh, and I'm SO sorry for this being late! Also, someone mentioned a symbol between scenes… You're totally right. I did have one, but for some reason it won't show up on the screen. I'll try to make another one this chapter. **

**P.S. Sorry if Mia gets a little out of character- I haven't really seen her much, and didn't really study her personality. Sorry bout that! (ok, I'll really start writing this time)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the CSI characters…**

"You are _so_ lucky." Greg said for what seemed like the millionth time since Sam had gotten in the car with him. She rolled her eyes as she opened her door and got out, not even bothering to respond once more. She had already wasted enough breath on the subject.

"Whatever. Where's the body?" Samantha asked, pulling a fresh pair of gloves out of the new forensics kit that Grissom had just given her. Greg shrugged.

"Most likely somewhere beyond the yellow tape."

"Oh really? I thought that it would be _across_ the street from the all of the police cars." The woman replied sarcastically, taking out her flashlight to help her see while the sun started to set.

"That's where you're wrong."

The two entered the house, each carrying a metallic colored case. Samantha rose up her arm, flashing a circle of yellow light on the darkening house walls. This family diffidently wasn't poor. For a moment she had no clue _where_ to look for the body- that was until she noticed that she was about to step in a pool of blood.

"Hey." She called out behind her towards Greg, crouching down and trailing the light of her flashlight along the length of the female's body, making sure that all of the victim's body parts were visibly intact. "I think I found the body."

"Really? I think I found the lights…" Greg muttered, trying to flick up the switch. Instantly a handful of sparks spat from the circuit, and a dying whirring sound could be heard. They had just lost all of the power.

"I don't see what use it is now," Sam smirked lightly, standing to her full height. It wasn't his fault- it probably would have done the same to her.

"Man, a battery powered lamp? How rich can someone get?"

"Money has no limits." Samantha replied as he pushed the button on the small lamp, illuminating the room. She raised her eyebrows slightly at the sight of the dead teenager on the floor- a girl that looked around seventeen. With her throat slashed. Greg didn't hesitate to start taking pictures from various angles; while Sam began searching for a weapon.

With a sigh Samantha stood up, searching once more in a drawer that the criminal could have "I can't find anything- but I can bet that we're probably looking for some sort of knife."

"Ah, all this while I was looking for a gun…" Greg muttered teasingly, taking the last picture. "Let's get this babe off to Al." He looked over to Sam, realizing that she didn't know who he was talking about. "Dr. Al Robbins, the Coroner." He explained, giving her a fake smile after she didn't respond.

"Sure, whatever- but first, tt's prints time." Sam said in an excited voice, just as fake as Greg's smile. At the words, they both opened their cases, withdrawing the fingerprint lifting gear. "You take the east side of the room, I'll take the west." She stated, taking charge of the situation. Greg didn't move.

"Right, well I didn't exactly bring a compass."

Sam nodded to the wall- each had a wooden plank with the cardinal direction written on it. It was the first time that she noticed all of the sea related décor; no doubt they were an active family that was into boating and-or fishing. "Rookie." Sam muttered jokingly, not realizing that he really was just recently turned into a field CSI.

"Ha ha." He replied, checking a few seemingly smudged prints. "I'm getting better." He admitted, giving up on the harmless prints an continuing on across the room, checking everything that could contain a print.

"Smudges, smudges- I've got nothing so far," Greg reported, leaning over into the blue light on the wall, squinting to see if he could find anything. He was close to being finished- almost to the center of the room.

"I've got one on the dresser; or whatever the hell you call this wooden thing." Samantha answered, rubbing the tape-like print-lifter on top of the wooden piece of furniture. When she was done, all that was left was a small tracing of a print on her equipment.

"I have no clue- but check this out." Greg didn't spend much time thinking it over- he didn't really care what the furniture's proper name was, as long as it contained evidence. He turned, nodding towards the wall that was labeled 'North'. "Guess I forgot to tell you earlier…"

"Guess so." Sam appeared at his side, at once noting the blood splatter on the wall- almost covering the oval shaped blood spots on the wall. Ten of them; it was no doubt a set of fingerprints when you looked closer. Then again, when Sam looked closer, she noticed that they were slightly normal than usual. It was as if whoever had left them had either been falling or drug downwards.

"Alright… I guess it's lab time then." She finished, after taking another picture of the fingerprints; just in case Greg hadn't caught in the right light. That was all that she needed; the whole case to be ruined by one simple mistake. Not that it happened often with her, or anyone that she knew for that matter; but she didn't want to risk it.

"I guess so." Greg replied, his once fake smile turning genuine. It was rare for him to meet someone who put up with him so easily- or at least so _soon_ after meeting him. It had to have broken a record of some kind.

_Back at the lab…_

"You know, I never heard who discovered the body." Sam informed her partner on the case as she entered the lab, sitting in a chair beside him. "I know it might be hard for you to fess up, but you have to tell me this stuff. God knows if we'd ever solve this case with just you." She joked, but had no clue why. She had just met him- why would she say something like that?

"Right- and you know that _how_?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. "Just incase you forgot, you met me…" He glanced at the clock, pausing to count before he answered. "Four and a half hours ago. And her mom made the 911 call."

"Because it took you ten seconds to count to four." Sam answered the same teasing tone that he had used with her earlier. Then she made herself stop and focus on the pages in front of her. What did she think she was doing? She really _didn't_ know Greg at all. Why was she having so much fun, cutting up on the job? "The mom? I didn't see her- must have been in interview. Makes sense."

Maybe it was just because that the CSI's in Chicago were so uptight; nothing like how Samantha _wanted _to be. But after a while, the crowd rubbed off on her. So maybe she could change back after all.

"Hello," Samantha jerked her head up at the voice of someone who had just entered the room- someone who she hadn't met before. In front of the table was an African American woman with gloves and the usual lab coat on. She smiled and nodded to Sam. "You must be the new girl- Mia Dickerson." Mia introduced herself, taking the blood samples from Greg.

"Oh, hi- Sam O'Brien." Samantha grinned in response, looking down at the folders in her hands. She glanced back up, handing Mia the appropriate one.

"You know, I was the new girl not too long ago." Mia talked as she opened the file, walking around the table and sitting behind the microscope. "I'll have these to you in the matter of a few days- on the nightshift alone I have nine different DNA samples to compare. A lot when you consider the normal income for the lab." She explained, while Sam nodded. She had never worked in the lab, but would act like she understood.

"Great- I'll go check the prints." Greg stood up, flashing the two another fake smile before leaving the room. Mia sighed and shook her head, her face only a few millimeters from the microscope.

"I guess I'll go check up with Grissom and get my locker." Samantha stood up, taking the remaining files on the edge of the desk. She lingered for a moment at the doorway, flipping through a few pages before she realized that she was still in the room. "Bye." She called over her shoulder to Mia, walking in the direction of where Catherine said that Grissom's office was.

_Outside his office…_

When Sam first saw Grissom for the second time, she was a little afraid to enter his office. The door was open, which was a welcome sign to Samantha- but for some reason Gil gave off a somewhat eerie aura.

So she stood there for a few moments, silent and watching her supervisor work. At least until she noticed that he had realized that she was there. Even then it was an awkward few moments before he spoke up.

"Can I help you?" He asked, still looking at the paper and writing on a few forms. Grissom looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "Sam- I thought you were someone else." He smirked, leaning back in his chair elegantly. "You need something?"

"Actually, yes- if you don't mind." Samantha replied, pulling the files closer and walking into his office. Slowly she took a seat in front of his desk, glancing around before she began to talk once more. "I was wondering about my locker…" She trailed off, not exactly thinking about mentioning anything else off the top of her mind.

"Your locker? Right," Gil leaned over, pulling a drawer out and a few papers out of it. "Here is one recently opened… Transferred to North Carolina off the day shift." He read off, handing the paper to her. "Anything else? Concerns about the case, questions about people, life?" He asked as Sam scanned the form.

"No, that's all I needed- Thanks." Samantha smiled broadly, standing up.

"No problem." Gil called after her as she exited the doorway, smirking to himself.

_At the end of the shift…_

"God." Sam muttered simply, letting her locker door close on its own. It was the first time in the past two days that the thought of her being homeless finally set in. Sure she had some pocket money from her last paycheck; but it was slithering through her hands quick from the cost of staying in a hotel every night. With a deep breath she leaned back slightly, looking up at the ceiling. She sat there for a while, staring at the long, rectangular lights. Until another voice caused her to jump.

It seemed as if that was happening to her a lot lately- people walking into a room and not being heard until they start to talk. To Sam that was somewhat scary- but she doubted that it would actually lead to her getting hurt anytime soon.

"Hey, what's up with you?"

Although Greg wasn't exactly the person that Sam wanted to talk to at the moment, it didn't hurt her to have someone to keep her company for a few seconds.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about stuff." Samantha answered, trying to fake a small smile. She failed terribly.

"Really? I think about stuff too." Greg joked, the witty smirk disappearing from his face as soon as he realized that something really was wrong- but had no clue how to address it; besides changing the subject. He just felt awkward in those situations. "So, have you met the nightshift crew?" He asked, opening his locker.

"Not yet. I've only met you, Catherine, and Grissom." Sam answered, looking back up at the lights. "And I met Mia too." She added, glancing over at the open door of his locker, which was blocking his face.

"You know, you don't have to trust me." He started, wondering where it came from, but deciding to go ahead and finish the speech. "We just met, I get that. But if something's wrong, I won't tell anyone." He closed his locker door just enough so he could turn his head and look at her. "It bothers me when people are depressed."

"I'm not depressed." Sam instantly defended, glancing down at her hands while she contemplated what to do. Should she tell him? She had no knowledge if he was telling the truth now or not; but the idea didn't really matter to her. She needed someone to pour her thoughts out to, and Greg looked like the only person around right now. Screw professional relationships.

"I'm homeless." Samantha let out with a quick breath, causing Greg to arch an eyebrow. "I don't know what to do and I'm living in a hotel. I don't know anyone and it's just time until I run out of money and have to live on the streets." She confessed, running the sentences together so she could get it over with. It was surprising to her how much weight it lifted off her shoulders just to tell him about it.

"_You're homeless_?" Greg couldn't help but throw the idea out. There was no way how clean Sam was that she was homeless. Until she explained- then somehow it all seemed real to him. It must have been hard for her to go into that house, with all of the expensive furniture and paintings. But it was part of the job, and there was nothing Greg could do about that. "Ah, hotel hobo. Gotcha."

Samantha couldn't hold back the small glare that she casted in Greg's direction for the 'hobo' comment. It wasn't that the idea bothered her; it was that it was the truth. She sighed and looked back down at her wringing hands. "Yeah. You get to work with a hobo; wait 'till you tell your grandkids that."

"Oh, believe me- I will. But one question: _you don't know people?_ Man, you know me." Greg slammed his locker shut and climbed over the bench, sitting down beside her. "And the hotels around here? They're killer… I can't believe you've lasted _this_ long."

Sam couldn't suppress a weak smile. It was 'killer'. "I know what you mean. They're murdering my bank account." She admitted. "And I really _don't _know you Greg. We just met not even a day ago."

"So? Sue me for being nice." Greg muttered in reply, a joke- but neither one of them found it funny; at least not on the outside.

"I don't do this often, ok- but then again, I don't meet homeless hobo chicks often either." He winked at her, quitting when he figured out he wasn't going to get a laugh. "Alright- this might be the chemicals in the lab talking, or this might be me. But I wouldn't mind if you spent the night at my place for a while; you know, me on the couch and you taking over the bed if you want." He shrugged, causing Samantha to scoot away from him; that and the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"But this leads back to the trust issue. You can trust me if you want, Sam- but if you don't want to, I can totally understand that." Greg paused to look at her. "And you can live in a hotel for the next couple of days." He leaned back on his hands, mimicking the position that she was in when he had entered the room. "You know how life would be- getting to marry Billy Wang Joe, the guy who collects coats that rats have ate through."

"Yeah, I- psh, whatever." Samantha answered to the hotel statement, not yet ready to reply to his offer. She had no clue what she should do- a part of her wanted to say yes, but there was the 'trust issue' and the idea of Grissom finding out. '_Not really the best impression you could leave._' If it would have been Catherine, Mia, or another woman, it wouldn't be too hard for her to agree. Yet this was Greg, and probably didn't have the best reputation around. Her conscious whispered loudly to her; but for once, she ignored her mind and did what her heart wanted to do.

"Alright- but have this clear. I'm not your girlfriend, we are _not_ dating; I'm not your whore or any of that good stuff." Samantha explained sternly, narrowing her eyes for a fear effect. Greg grinned.

Greg raised an eyebrow about the 'good stuff', but the decision hit him like a brick. "So that's it- you're deciding to come live with me?" He asked, in what seemed like a genuine excited voice. Samantha shook her head as she grabbed her purse.

"No, I'm not choosing to go with you. I'm choosing _not_ to stay in the hotel." Although she was had been trying to make the point clear to him that there was nothing between them; she couldn't help but add a little humor to it. "But if you look at it that way, sure."

_At Greg's pad…_

"You live in an _apartment_?" Sam asked in a slightly disgusted, but more surprised tone. There was nothing wrong with apartments- the disgust came from how unclean the outside hallway seemed. She shook her head. "I just can't believe it. This isn't happening." In her hands were a few shopping bags and her purse- within which were her clothes and a few other personal items. The only things she actually needed to start most of her life over.

"God, I need to teach you some new words… That's all you've been saying since we left the lab."

A clever smirk appeared on Greg's face at his joke, it soon disappearing as he opened his door. "I like how cozy an apartment feels." He shook as if the feeling were so strong it made him shiver. Sam rolled her eyes.

"I really don't get it Greg. Why are you doing this? You don't know me, and you shouldn't care what happens to me. Why do you just open up your home like that?" Samantha asked as she walked into the surprisingly clean apartment.

"See, that's where you're wrong. I know that you're a good person, I just do. I can feel it. And I care, because you'll be a great addition to the team. Besides, women aren't supposed to be homeless. It's not cool." Greg explained, shutting the door behind her. "And that was the gayest crap I've ever remembered saying- but I meant it." He assured her, walking into what seemed like an open kitchen beside the room they were standing in; the living room.

Samantha looked around, noticing the contrast between the hall and his apartment. The light carpet, the comfy looking green couch- she would like it here. Samantha was a _very_ cuddly woman.

Sam sighed. "You're just… I'll never get it, but Greg-" She started softly, waiting for him to enter the room once more. He raised an eyebrow, seeming to be slightly tired. Sam paused, taking a deep breath. "Thanks. Really- I have no clue…" She trailed off, but made sure that she was clearly sincere. She really didn't know where she would have turned out; or how she would pay him back.

"You don't have to do anything; really, it's a welcoming present I guess."

'_A welcoming present…_' Sam thought, smiling to herself. _'This place really is better…'_

_Later that night…_

It took Samantha a few times to open her eyes, and a few more moments for them to focus. When she looked at the red-numbered alarm clock beside her, she thought it wasn't set right. Then she remembered that she was on the nightshift, and was only a few hours away from having to leave.

That was all that she actually noticed at the time. She was still tired from her first case the day before. As she thought about it- trying to think of what could have happened and such, she remembered a name… Greg? Then she remembered what had happened earlier that morning. _'It didn't happen, I didn't move in with him.'_ Her mind tried to convince itself, as she rolled over to look at the ceiling. _'I've had more vivid dreams about victims… It didn't happen.'_

"No, it didn't." Sam muttered to herself, rolling back over and closing her eyes. The comforter that she was under was surprisingly comfortable for a hotel blanket, but maybe the maid had just come by.

"Man, are you talking in your sleep?"

Samantha screamed, only for a few seconds- a few long seconds. "_What_ are you doing in here!" She whipped to her side, only to find the other side of the bed empty. With paranoia she analyzed the room, looking for someone else. A certain someone; maybe someone named Greg with a voice that came out of thin air.

A chuckle came from the closet. She never thought about the closet door; which was ajar, but he back of Greg's pants when he stepped backwards gave it away.

"Just in case you forgot, this is my room. And if you really need to know, I'm getting some clothes for tonight. We do work the nightshift." Greg answered, taking another step backwards and closing the small closet's door. "Speaking of which, _I'm_ leaving in about two hours." He waited a few moments before he turned his head and looked at her. "What?" He asked innocently as Sam groggily sat up.

"Nothing. I just don't like the idea of waking up to you. And I'm hungry." She answered, yawning as she stretched her arms. She was wearing a comfortable little white tank top, with dark blue cotton pajama pants.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"About a day ago." It was true- Sam hadn't ate anything since the beginning of her shift the day before. She was somewhat glad; she knew that she might _have_ gotten sick on her first day. But now she meant to replace all of the nutrients that she had lost over the last 24 hours.

"That's stupid."

It _was _stupid. Everything was stupid. Her living with a guy that she had met only the day before- that was stupid. The idea of her new boss actually liking it; and just her whole life. It was stupid. She had made mistakes, and hopefully she could fix them. Maybe that's why she felt such a great friendship with Greg already. He seemed the most likely to help her fix things; and maybe even to help her pick up the fallen pieces of her life.


	3. Confession

Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm so glad I actually had someone… Anyways, sorry it took so long to update; I have another account and was busy making a sequel to a story on there. So, without further adieu… Let's get back to the story.**

"What's up?" Greg asked, pulling up a chair and sitting across the small 'bar' from Samantha. She looked up briefly before looking back at the file she had been reading. "Long time no see."

"I saw you fifteen minutes ago when I left your apartment." Samantha responded unenthusiastically, and in more of an irritable tone. She tossed her fair, loose hair behind her shoulder and began to work once more.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked as he turned his chair and the folder simultaneously so he had a better view of what she had been studying.

"It's my birthday." She replied sarcastically, taking a paper from her other side and circling something in red. Greg looked up for a moment, he really had believed her for the split second that she had actually sounded serious. His mouth formed into a smirk as he looked down at some of the other files within the folder.

"Then why are you so grumpy, birthday girl?" Greg asked, looking back up at her to raise an eyebrow.

"I'm not grumpy, you're just _way_ to cheerful."

_The hall: 10 minutes later…_

"Hey Greg, I found those- Hey." Nick stopped halfway in his sentence at the sight of the new CSI. She was a new face, and not one from the day shift either. "Who's this? It's about time you got a girlfriend." He teased as large Texan grin appeared on his face.

Samantha smiled, not looking anywhere near as ill-tempered as she had been before. "He wishes- Sam O'Brien, night shift." She extended her hand. Nick shook it almost instantly.

"Night shift, huh? Nick Stokes- same. Any chance that Sam's short for Samantha?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Greg snickered, turning away slightly so Sam couldn't tell.

"Actually yeah, but I go by Sam. Samantha's too formal for me." Samantha explained once more, hoping that she wouldn't have to do it too many more times. She sent a quick glare in Greg's direction before looking back to Nick.

He nodded, letting go of her hand as it returned to the folders she was about to transfer to Mia. "I know- imagine being named after Santa Claus."

"Santa Claus?" Greg asked himself out loud, his mind blank for a moment.

"St. _Nicholas_, Greg." Nick explained, deciding to get back to what he had approached him for. "Like I was saying- I had to use the print machine, so I ran yours through the machine like you asked." He handed Greg a paper, instantly attracting both Sam and Greg's attention. "Some interesting results."

"Oh- I'd say so." Greg said, nodding slowly and surprisingly at the paper. Sam took it out of his hands, coming close to acting the same way- shocked, yet she didn't begin to nod her head like Greg did. Instead, her eyes widened slightly.

"This- this certainly gives it a spin." Sam agreed, reading the results again. "Thank you- _so_ much Nick." It was a few seconds before Sam looked up. "Really, this is great."

"No problem- anytime you guys. All I did was sit there and let the computer do the work." Nick responded, nodding to the two as he laughed lightly. "I guess I'll see you two around." He walked past them as Greg grabbed for the paper once more, unsuccessful at getting the paper back from Sam.

"Greg- do you know how much of a spin this puts on the case?" She asked, forcing her chocolate eyes to meet his dark hazel; trying to help work his mind on the case. She didn't have to look up to him too much- just a few inches or two.

"Yeah, I do- I'm not _that_ bad as a rookie am I?" He asked, chuckling at himself. "There _is_ a spin when an ex-felon was at the house."

_Outside Grissom's Office: 7 minutes later…_

Grissom had gone out for a case. Some of the technicians who had seen him leave estimated him to be back any minute; but Samantha had brought work for her and Greg. Greg had convinced her to tell Grissom about her moving in with him at the first of the shift rather than the last.

"He'll think there's a gap in trust between you two- he's big on that." Greg informed her as they sat on a bench outside of his closed office door, his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. "Not openly, but I do think that some of the cases he assigns is because who he can trust to work on their own, you know?" He asked, looking over at the woman next to him. "He'll most likely think that either you don't trust him; or that he shouldn't trust you."

"Right." Samantha rolled her eyes, still looking over some of the information that Nick had given them. She was a little nervous about giving the information to her supervisor- sure he seemed okay already, but you really never know people. All she wanted was just to keep her job. "Greg- he was an accessory to murder."

"Grissom? How'd he get this job?" Greg asked, instantly sitting up straight. "I didn't think you could do that."

"You can't." Samantha replied, holding up a sheet of paper for Greg to look at. He took it in his own hands and read it.

"Oh, right- good ol' Andy Irvine, the ex-felon." Greg flipped the page over, checking for a back- yet it was blank. He turned it to the other side as Samantha nodded and continued.

"Charged on two accounts of rape and accessory to murder. I bet it was in violation of his parole to be around that girl." Sam smiled and took it back from him, putting it in the folder. "What was he doing there? I mean, why rape a millionaire's daughter who's covered in high-priced security when you can go rape and kill a prostitute?"

"A grudge, revenge; maybe he didn't kill her." Greg shrugged, though the thought was still mulling through his mind. It was a stupid idea.

Samantha shook her head. "Think logically Greg; 2 accounts of rape and accessory to murder."

"Don't get stuck to thinking logically- most of the time thinking outside of the box is what solves the case."

The interruption caused Samantha and Greg to look up at the same time, both able to see Grissom with a clever smirk on his face. "I bet it's safe to say you two need to see me." He asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Actually- yeah." Samantha responded, losing her courage and immediately being filled with a mixture of nervousness and even fear. What if she did lose her job? She couldn't go back to Chicago; they wouldn't take her back. She just knew that something would go wrong.

"Alright then- come on in." Grissom turned, unlocking his door and pushing it so it opened as far as it could and stopped. He turned on the lights, making his way behind his desk and sitting down. "How important is it?" He asked, arranging the new folders on his desk perfectly and then looking up at the two.

"Trust-important;" Greg replied, beginning to shut the door just before Gil motioned for him to do so. Samantha nervously sat in one of the two seats in front of his desk, Greg doing the same a few seconds later.

It was a few moments before anyone said anything. Samantha was nervously moving her heel up and down, while looking at her clasped hands. Greg was calmly examining the contents of Gil's office from afar, his eyes trailing to the various jars that were sitting on the shelves hanging on the wall. Grissom himself was studying the two's behavior, and it was he that decided it had been enough time since they had entered the office.

"So; trust-important?" He asked, looking from Greg to Samantha. "How?"

"Trust like if we didn't tell you at the beginning of the shift you wouldn't trust us." Greg paused, glancing at a jar of mysterious contents before looking back at Grissom and continuing. "Well; you already don't trust me. I'm talking about Samantha."

Gil's eyebrows rose. "Really? Sam?" Grissom asked, looking over to the woman. She hadn't even noticed that Greg had called her by her real name- he might not have either. "Well, what is it?"

"Oh… You see, when I moved here I didn't have a place to stay; so I staid in a hotel." Samantha started, looking up at Grissom and then back down at her hands briefly, before deciding to try and keep eye contact. Gil nodded understandingly, putting Sam somewhat at ease. "So when Greg found out he offered me a place at his apartment; and I accepted." Samantha partially winced, ready for a loud and long lecture at the least. She had used some formal language to try and sway her chances.

Instead she heard silence. Slowly she looked up, and she wasn't all that afraid anymore. Grissom hadn't changed his expression- he was still calm, collected, and didn't even seem like he was going to scold her at all for it. He was thoughtfully staring at her over his hand, which was placed near his mouth in the position that someone would if there was deep thought involved.

Greg hadn't moved. Sam was sure that he had probably been in that seat at _least_ a couple times before. At least he knew how Grissom would react to some things that might be said; which gave him a better chance to some extent when it came to telling Grissom what happened, and getting themselves out of this mess.

"Sam- I'm going to ask you this once, and I want the truth. There won't be any punishment." Grissom spoke clearly, almost as if talking to someone who barely knew English.

"I- that's not a question." She stated softly, causing a small smile to appear on her superior's face.

"I know." He merely responded, still calm, and he and Greg's seemingly laid back moods at the moment were the only things that kept Sam together. "Did you two have sex?" He asked Samantha, leaning slightly closer as their eyes met.

"What? No!" Sam assured him, shaking her head. Grissom held up one finger, as if to remind her that he was only going to ask her the question one time.

"Once Sam."

"No! I slept in the bed and he slept on the couch." She promised, and his eyes staid locked with hers as if they were searching for some hint of a lie. He finally sat fully back into his chair, glancing over at Greg who was also looking at Samantha.

"Alright then. I'm glad you told me about this early on Sam." He nodded, opening one of his folders and taking a mechanical pencil from the pencil holder on his desk. "Ok, you two are done."

"We're- what?" Greg asked with a slight panicky tone in his voice also. Apparently he didn't want to lose his job either- or something else.

"Done- this conversation's over." Grissom answered, looking up for a mere second before returning to his work. "You can leave now."

"So we're not fired, or suspended- _anything_?" Greg asked once more, now being the one to talk as Sam had found some sense of silence. It hadn't gone as bad as she thought so far.

"No, not at all." Grissom answered, stopping all of his work to look up at the two sincerely. "I don't have any control with what you do outside of work." The look on Grissom's face was one that Samantha would never forget. He looked as if he understood them, but they were slowly wearing away at his nerves. Like he was the first father figure she had had in a long time.

But she didn't need to jump to things- she had only known Gil for about a day; and people's first impressions can often be wrong.

_In the locker room: at the end of the shift…_

Sam thought that Greg was her mirror image when she turned around, noticing that he too had his locker opened and was fumbling with something inside. Although his locker wasn't _exactly_ opposite of hers, it felt awkward to turn around and see that he was doing almost the same thing that she was.

"What are you doing?" She asked, turning back to her opened locker and trying to arrange the contents to give it a homey-feel. If she couldn't have her own place, the least she could do is make her locker feel like her own place.

"Nothing." Greg answered, taking his wallet out of his locker and checking his wild hair in the mirror hanging on the back 'wall' of his locker. "Just making sure I didn't lose any of my so called personality. You?" He asked, turning slightly to look back at her.

Samantha smiled, understanding as soon as she looked back at him. "Making my locker feel like home." She replied, enjoying the peaceful few moments of silence that followed.

"So, where do you wanna go eat?" Greg asked, finished with his locker, but not closing it until Sam would. If he did close it, he would wait around for her. That's just how it had been since the day before- Sam had staid around him because she knew him, and he let her. It gave her some sense of security. Yet if he staid behind after he shut his locker, no doubt it would be awkward; it would be like he was watching her like a stalker.

"Me? Why?" Samantha asked, turning around.

Greg smiled to himself in the mirror. "Because we've been hanging out, and I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me." He answered, looking back at her for her reaction and the way she would answer. It took a while, but she finally did.

"Why do you care?" Samantha turned to see him looking at her, and it was a good few moments before either one of them did anything. Her fingers were resting on the small door of her locker, ready to shut it but waiting. "Why would you want me to come?" She asked quietly, thinking it over in her own head. She would never be doing things for a stranger like Greg was- probably not even someone she knew, unless they were a close family member.

"Because, you haven't ate since the beginning of the shift; and you didn't eat for a day yesterday. I just thought you'd be hungry." He replied, turning back to his locker and breaking their eye contact. Sam turned back to her locker, adjusting the new oval shaped mirror she had put in the door and ran a few fingers through one side of her hair. She was thinking it over and really didn't know what to do this time; yet she hadn't the time before either.

She sighed, once again ready to close her locker door. "Greg- I don't know, I don't want to get in trouble with Grissom or anything…"

"You heard him- he doesn't care what we do outside of work."

"He said he has no _control_, not that he doesn't care." Sam corrected him, looking for excuses not to go. To tell the truth, she really did want to- she just knew it would be somewhat awkward for her.

Greg took a slightly deep breath and shut his locker door staring at it for a moment before he turned around to look at Sam again. "Alright; I think there's like some bread and stuff at home." He informed her, picking up his light jacket and lingering for a moment to wait for her reply.

"You know what- fine, I'll go then." Sam answered, not realizing that he was already waiting for her. She took one last look at the inside of her locker, then slowly shut the door and picked up her purse. She just prayed that where they were going wouldn't be anywhere wild.

_Hotel Restaurant: 45 minutes later…_

"I'm paying for yours too, you know."

"No you're not."

It was the third time that Greg had told her he was paying for it all; mostly while they were looking over the menus of the slightly fancy restaurant on the strip. Samantha kept refusing and assuring him that she would pay; yet she didn't know exactly how she would do it.

"Yes, I am. It'll be a welcoming present." Greg reassured her, looking back down at his menu.

"You've already given me a welcoming present- you're paying my rent." Samantha reminded him, glancing at him over the laminated paper.

"You're rent's free- so you deserve another present, ok?" That was the last of the simple argument. He was so- _different_. No one had ever bothered to even care about where she lived, much less how she paid for her dinner. As much as she might have hated to admit it to someone else, Greg was slowly but surely becoming a good friend of hers. And Samantha didn't mind it at all.


End file.
